


Unintended Costs

by SweetestHoney



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And By That I Mean, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Gen, He's a dick, I want to finish it so badly, I'll probably bash steve quite a bit, M/M, Not Captain America Friendly, Slow Burn, don't let me leave this unfinished, sort of lol - Freeform, there is for sure going to be arm porn, there may be arm porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25317397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetestHoney/pseuds/SweetestHoney
Summary: Bucky Barnes has no purpose, no friends, and no real plans for the future. When he gets a call from Tony Stark's personal assistant, asking him to try to talk some sense into the man after everything that happened with Thanos, he goes. If Tony Stark wants to lure him in and then kick his ass, well, Bucky wouldn't really fault the man, and he can't even say he wouldn't deserve it. What he finds instead, though, is not a trap.(aka Tony Stark lived through the last snap but his arm is, well, not quite so useable now, and to a man who is always on the move and always thinking up new inventions, the loss of the use of his right arm is nothing short of devastating. Somehow, Bucky helps.)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 14
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look alright I'm garbage and I have approximately ten billion other things to work on but this idea took hold in my brain and wouldn't let go. I just - I've had really bad writers block lately so I might be kind of shit at updating with any regularity but I really love the idea for this one and I am determined to write it out.

When the cell phone that he was given by director Fury _ (in case we need you) _ rang, Bucky Barnes wasn't sure he wanted to answer it. The number was blocked, but then, of course it would be. He stared at the buzzing thing in hopes it would give up without him having to make a decision either way, but it just kept ringing in his palm. 

Swiping up on the touchscreen, he held the phone to his ear, steeling himself for whatever world-ending catastrophe had happened this time. But when the caller on the other end spoke, it wasn't the gruff voice of director Fury, nor the businesslike Maria Hill. The caller on the other end was female, with a light lilting accent and rather casual tone. 

"Hello, I'm looking to speak with James "Bucky" Barnes, please." Her voice was pleasant and she managed to convey the air quotes around his nickname through tone alone, which rather impressed him. 

Bucky had to clear his throat once or twice before he could answer, and when he finally did, the words were stilted and awkward. "Yeah? That's, uh, me." He frowned at his own inability to speak like a human being, but before he could try again the pleasant voice was responding to him, giving no indication that she was bothered by his gruffness. 

"Excellent, it's good to meet you Mr. Barnes. I realize we technically haven't had the pleasure before now." He quirked an eyebrow at her chipper demeanor, aware she couldn't see him. 

"No, we haven't, and I'm still not sure who I'm speaking with here. How did you get this number?" 

There was a soft laugh before she responded. "The number is catalogued in SHIELD records, and I have access to all of their data, among others. I apologise for not introducing myself earlier. I am FRIDAY, Tony Stark's personal AI assistant." 

At that, Bucky felt himself blink in shock, both at the casual manner in which she said it and also complete confusion in regards to why Tony Stark would want anything to do with him. The last Bucky had heard, the man had gone and gotten himself hurt pretty badly during the final battle with Thanos, and had been recovering since then. 

When the silence on the other end of the phone stretched long, Bucky realized that he was supposed to respond to what the woman had said. She was Stark's, what, personal assistant? Something else too, Bucky was pretty sure, but he wasn't sure what. 

"Ah, uh, yeah that's – okay then. What do you want from me? I've steered clear of him, of all of that, so if you're calling to tell me to get out of New York or something, then, tough luck." He ended the impromptu speech a little bitterly, aware of how he sounded but unable to change his tone. Somehow the woman didn't seem to mind, and she just chuckled again. 

"Not at all, actually; the reason I'm calling is quite to the contrary, really." She paused, hesitating before she spoke again. "The boss is...well, he's not doing so well right now, with everything, and I'm calling to ask you to talk with him." 

Bucky could not have expected her words less. Tony Stark, billionaire playboy genius philanthropist superhero,  _ hated _ Bucky with a passion, something Bucky hadn't ever been able to fault him for (given everything that happened with his parents, and Siberia). For his part, Bucky held no ill will towards Stark, just a deep seated knowledge that he'd never be able to truly apologize for how everything had gone down. 

"What?" His voice was steadier than he expected and he sent a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening. 

She didn't seem fazed at all by his incredulity, and happily repeated her query. "I'm calling to ask you to meet with Mr. Stark, since he's been having a rough go of it recently. I believe that having someone to talk with about his challenges would be beneficial for him." 

Bucky became aware that his mouth hung open with shock, and he closed it quickly. "But – and, no offense – but, why me? There has to be better people for the job, like, say, anyone he doesn't despise, for starters?" 

Her sigh was quiet before she answered. "Mr. Barnes, how much do you know about the injuries sustained by Mr. Stark during the last battle against Thanos?" 

Bucky shrugged, scratching at the back of his head and feeling awkward. "Uh, not much. When it was over I found Steve and Sam and they got me out of there, then with everything–" He choked abruptly as he remembered the days after that battle and everything that had happened, but regained his composure quickly. "With everything that, uh, happened after that, I kind of lost track of what was going on with him, since I was dealing with other stuff." He bit his lip, trying to will away the images of Steve deciding to leave him for good. 

His answer didn't bother FRIDAY, though, and she responded as if he hadn't said anything strange. "Ah, well, I had figured that might be the case. As it is, I'm not at liberty to disclose personal medical details, so I cannot enlighten you on exactly why I believe you would be a good candidate to talk to, but suffice it to say that the two of you probably have more in common than you think, and I calculate a high probability of the meeting going well."

Bucky grunted, lost in thought over what she might have meant when she said they had more in common than he thought. Stark hadn't been brainwashed, at least as far as he knew, so he wasn't sure what she was talking about. When he didn't answer her after another few moments of silence, she pressed on. 

"So, are you willing to come here and speak with Mr. Stark? I can reimburse you for the travel costs, if need be." 

Bucky snorted at that. "It'll be less than five bucks if I take the train, don’t bother about travel costs.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Fuck, fine, when do you want me there?" He ran a hand over his face, silently cursing his curiosity. 

The woman paused, thinking. When she finally answered him, it was halting, as though she was having a conversation with someone else at the same time. “Yes, well, does tomorrow work for you? Boss has a board of directors meeting that he’ll be avoiding, which means I can ensure that he'll be in his lab. Being in a space he feels safe in means a higher likelihood of the meeting going well."

Bucky frowned, both at the short timeline and the fact that Stark would potentially try to run away from the meeting. “What do you mean? Why wouldn't it go well – didn’t he ask you to set this up?” 

Her answer sounded vaguely guilty. “Well, no, he didn’t ask me to do this specifically. He’s just been….out of sorts lately, and unhappy with the situation he’s stuck in.” Bucky resisted the urge to groan aloud at that. “And, well, I’ve been doing some research on human behavior and one of the most common types of therapy for someone in his situation is to talk with another person who has dealt with something similar.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes and ran a hand over his face again. "So, what you're saying is that you're planning on cornering him and surprising him with someone he still hates, in hopes that he'll open up to me about things he'd rather not talk about with his trusted friends and family." 

The woman on the other end of the line paused for a moment before responding. "Well, yes. If that changes your willingness to meet with him, I'd understand, of course–" 

Bucky cut her off. "No, it's - it's fine, I'll talk to him. If you think it would really be good for him." He surprised himself with his eagerness to talk to a man who would likely take one look at him and try to repulsor him in the face, but he owed the man many times over and if this could help even that score, Bucky was ready to try it. "Just tell me when." 

The woman seemed surprised but grateful, and they set up a time the next day for Bucky to arrive at the tower. FRIDAY said she would give Stark a heads up so he didn't think Bucky was there to attack him or something, and they hung up with only a few stilted goodbyes. 

That night, instead of falling asleep, Bucky paced the tiny, cramped living room in his crappy SHIELD-issue apartment. It was barely ten feet long, less across, but he found himself counting the steps from one side of the room to the other instead of counting sheep. He knew meeting with Stark was probably a bad idea, but he was also genuinely curious about the man's condition and hoped he could help in some way, even though he doubted he'd be off much use. Bucky had only just gotten his own head on halfway, and he wasn't sure about his ability to help anyone else. 

Eventually, though, the pacing did it's job and wore him out to the point where he felt like laying down might lead to sleep. Once his head hit the pillow, Bucky found himself drifting off almost immediately, despite his still churning mind. His last thought before drifting off was that maybe Stark would be willing to take a look at his arm, see if there was anything that looked like it needed updating. It felt leagues better than the old HYDRA one, so much so that Bucky felt guilty even thinking about anything being wrong with it, but every now and again he still got ghost twinges of pain that shot from his fingertips up to his shoulder, and he wondered if it would be fixable. 

The next day, Bucky got up and got ready early, his whole body nearly buzzing with barely controlled nerves. He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, only that Stark was a very intimidating figure and Bucky didn't want to fuck up his chance to help the man. After he'd showered, changed clothes three times, brushed his teeth, shaved, and combed his hair twice, Bucky looked at the clock and found that it was barely noon. He still had over two hours before he was supposed to leave. 

Bucky groaned, flopping back onto his threadbare couch in annoyance. Since everything had gone down, he'd found ways to occupy himself, but there still seemed to be far too much time in the day and far too little to occupy it. For a few weeks, he stuck with Sam, helping him with the Captain America schtick, but without Steve there to force them to get along, the two men chafed and ended up bickering with each other over stupid shit, meaning nothing got done. So Bucky had bid Sam goodbye, with the promise that if the man needed help, Bucky would be there. So far, Sam had been just fine and Bucky found himself glad that the other man took to the role so well.

Without that distraction, though, Bucky had quickly run out of things to do. He'd spent about a month at his local library, reading up on recent history, both of the United States and the world at large, until SHIELD got him some papers and he got himself a library card. Bucky knew the internet had all of the same information, but there was something about holding a book that made him feel like he was absorbing the information better. 

So he'd taken up reading, both fiction and nonfiction, and spent his days catching up on all of the culture, both pop and otherwise, that he'd missed out on. But now, with only a few hours before he had to leave, he knew reading was out of the question – if he'd tried to open the book he was in the middle of now, he'd just end up rereading the same sentence for the next hour. 

Laying back against the uncomfortable couch, Bucky groaned again, covering his face with his hands. Bored and restless was not a good look on him and he knew it. Briefly, he considered pacing again before discarding the idea – with his stamina, the floor would likely give out before he did. 

The idea of his stamina sparked something in his head though, and he cracked one eye to look down at himself. What with the whole  _ HYDRA  _ thing, he hadn't really gotten that much time to himself in quite a while. His body had urges, of course, things he couldn't repress, but since he woke up he'd stuck to what he knew from the army – jerking off silently, late at night, as fast and perfunctorily as possible. But lately, he'd been craving something else besides the quick and joyless masturbation sessions, and now was as good a time as any to try something different. 

Bucky shifted on the couch, spreading his legs out and making himself comfortable. When he finally slipped his flesh hand down the front of his jeans, he was already half hard. It felt  _ great _ . He pressed down harder, not even gripping himself yet, just rubbing with the palm of his hand and letting his hips cant up against the warm pressure. His eyes lidded and his head tipped back against the couch as he worked. 

Even as he rubbed at himself, Bucky realized he was holding his breath, keeping himself from making any noise. Determined now, he breathed out, focusing his attention half on his breathing and half on the lazy movements of his hand against his dick. 

" _ God– _ " Even that breathy, hushed exhalation sounded loud in the quiet room, and as he spoke, Bucky froze, the sound causing his panic to spike. When nobody barged into the room to insist that he stop immediately, though, Bucky resumed his motions, grinding the heel of his hand against his dick, his hips bucking upwards to meet the pressure. 

When he finally gripped himself instead of just pressing against the bulge in his jeans, he whimpered, the touch sending him higher into the stratosphere. He forced himself to go slow, jerking himself up and down almost punishingly slowly, and on an upstroke, he thumbed across his weeping head. A groan forced its way out of his mouth, his head falling back against the couch. 

Quickly, though, he realized he wanted more,  _ needed _ more, and he stopped the movements of his hand in favor of standing up and walking into his bedroom. On the nightstand was the cheap bottle of lube he'd purchased, half empty. Haltingly, he settled himself in on the bed, but not before tugging his jeans down and leaving them in a heap on the floor. No need to chance getting them messy before he left. 

Once he was settled back down on the bed, Bucky bent his knees, posting his feet and rubbing a hand over the bulge in his boxers. He rocked his hips up, moaning softly again as he pushed against the pressure of his hand. With the metal hand, he pushed at the waistband of his boxers, edging them down his thighs and towards his knees. Freed from confinement, his dick bounced up against his stomach. 

At that, Bucky paused and looked down at himself. Every time he’d touched himself since he woke up, it had been dark, and he took a moment to really look at himself, his hand still stroking lazily. He’d seen his dick before now, of course – he had to use the bathroom just like everyone else – but he hadn’t seen it hard in...probably too long, really. He traced the shape with his eyes, comparing against the hazy memories of before the war, before everything. The comparison wasn’t drastic or anything, but as he looked, he came to the conclusion that the serum HYDRA gave him had enhanced  _ everything _ after all. 

That thought prompted a chuckle, and he grinned, arching his back as he thrust up into his hand once more. The laugh cut off into a groan, and as he tightened his grip on himself, Bucky bit his lip, fighting the urge to finish already. Instead of moving his hand faster, he let go of himself with a whine, his breath coming in short pants as his hips thrust up, searching for friction. 

“F-Fuck, shit–” Bucky’s words were low, but echoed around the quiet room, sounding louder. He gripped his thigh with his right hand, trying to stave off the need to touch himself more. Instead, he held up his other hand, contemplating. He’d never touched himself  _ there _ with the hand HYDRA gave him, not even when he was in the bathroom, for fear that it was programmed to do something horrible to him. But with this new one, the one he’d been gifted by Wakanda, he’d gotten their full assurance that it was only wired into his nervous system, and they had no abilities to control it, reprogram it, or in any way know what he used it for. Well. 

Tentative, Bucky reached down until his metal fingertips stroked over his shaft, the feeling different than when he used his other hand. The metal was warm, heated by it’s constant contact with his body, and when he palmed himself, the smooth texture was interesting in its uniqueness. He stroked a couple times, testing out the feeling. It wasn’t quite the same as it was with his flesh and blood hand, and he brought that one back down as well, switching his grip so he held his dick with the human hand, letting the metal one drift lower to play with his balls. 

Having been one-armed for so long, the feeling as he jerked himself with one hand and fondled his balls with the other blindsided him, the combination of sensations almost pushing him over the edge right then and there. He quickly let go of himself, not wanting everything to end so soon, and felt his toes curling as his body protested the edging. 

When he was sure he wouldn’t come right away, he moved his hands back into position, right hand stroking  _ lightly _ and left touching his balls. The metal feeling was less discernible when it wasn’t on his dick, and the light pressure combined with the warmth felt marvelous as he continued doing it. 

A few minutes of that and Bucky was panting again, reveling in the knowledge that no matter how loud his breathing got, he wasn’t about to be burst in on. Bolder now, he slipped his metal hand lower, nudging one finger against his hole questioningly. He’d heard that this could feel good, that some guys liked it even more than being the one penetrating. He’d never really considered it before now, but since he was exploring already…

The first touch to his hole didn’t feel like much, the smooth metal of his fingers brushing over the puckered skin lightly. When he pushed in a little more firmly, he felt a spark of  _ something _ shoot up his spine, and he pulled his hand away quickly, not wanting to come too soon. Breathing heavily, he turned to grab the bottle of lube from his nightstand, pouring it over one hand before rubbing them together, slicking them both. He replaced the hand on his dick, a light touch, his focus fixed on the other hand, which he used to nudge at his hole again. 

His metal index finger, covered in lube now, slipped inside almost too easily. It felt good around his finger, since with the added sensation in his hand he could tell that he was hot and slippery and  _ tight _ . The sensation made his hips jerk up again in search for a similar feeling around his dick. He gripped the base of his dick until the threat of orgasm receded, screwing his eyes closed as well. 

When he was sure he wasn’t about to shoot all over himself, Bucky carefully pushed his finger further inside of himself, rubbing against his inner walls as he tried to find the spot he’d heard about. The sensations on their own weren’t  _ bad _ , either, just somewhat strange, and as he started to think that he either might not be able to reach it or it might have just been made up, his finger rubbed along a ridge inside himself, sending off fireworks behind his closed eyelids.

Bucky heard himself making some kind of noise at the sensation, but he was too caught up in it to care, his hips rocking up and back down as his body tried to get both sensations at once – the hand around his dick and the finger in his ass. He pushed his finger more firmly against the spot, forgetting all intentions of not coming just yet, and clasped himself tighter at the same time. His vision whited out behind his eyelids and he felt himself coming harder than he could ever remember, hand striping his dick as he pumped himself. 

When he finally came back to himself, Bucky lifted his head in a daze, looking down at his chest and legs as he tried to focus his mind through the post-orgasm haze. His eyes traveled the contours of his own body slowly, taking in his still heaving lungs and the stripes of cum that painted his shirt. He rolled his eyes at himself and groaned, letting his head fall back down onto the pillows at the idea of having to change his shirt  _ again _ . 

After another minute or so, he felt more with it and he rolled onto his side, wiping his hands on the sheet next to him. The combination of lube and cum was starting to dry and the texture had him rubbing his hands harder against the sheet, trying to get all of it off. With a groan, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and rolled to his feet, standing on wobbly legs. Once he was sure his legs would support him, he made his way to the small bathroom and scrubbed the mess off of his hands, taking care to get all of the sticky substances from the grooves in his metal hand, not wanting to find any later on. 

Once he was cleaned up, he glanced down at his shirt and huffed with disgust, rolling his eyes at himself before pulling it over his head and tossing it in the hamper. He retrieved a new shirt and tugged it on before making his way back into the bedroom and sitting on the edge of the bed. When Bucky looked over to the small clock on the nightstand, he noted that he’d managed to kill the better part of an hour and ran a hand through his hair before pulling on his jeans once more. 

Put together again and feeling more relaxed after his orgasm, Bucky regarded himself in the mirror that hung on the wall for a few moments. The metal arm was pretty noticeable, but most people would walk right by him if he covered it with long sleeves. Grunting in annoyance, he rifled through his closet until he dug out a thin sweatshirt and pulled it on over the shirt, already dreading the warm, late-spring air outside that would likely have him sweating by the time he got to Stark Tower. But the heat was worth the anonymity, and so he left the jacket unzipped, hoping there would be a breeze to negate the worst of it. 

With a little over an hour before he was supposed to be at the tower, he headed out, not wanting to be late. The subways were always packed, but since it was the middle of the day, he was a little less concerned with the throngs of people crowding the New York City subway. 

The stop nearest his apartment was usually quiet, and as he descended the stairs, there were only a few people milling around, waiting for trains. He was in luck, and the train he needed rattled into the station not ten minutes after he got there. When he stepped inside, there was even a seat that he didn't have to fight anyone over. 

The rest of his ride was boring, but he passed it by people watching, observing everyone else riding with him as he waited for his stop. Despite his best efforts, he'd never managed to quell the automatic assessment of these levels from those in close physical proximity to him. Nobody on the train knew who he was, nor did they care, but Bucky couldn't help his assessment of the three easiest escape routes, had he need of them, and an automatic catalogue of any suspicious movements by any of them towards his person. 

When the train neared Stark tower, the crowds of people on the train got thicker, and a few stops from his, Bucky stood to let a clearly pregnant woman have his seat. She gave him a grateful look and sat, splaying her legs wide to make room for her swollen belly. Bucky turned away, not wanting to stare, and stood in front of the doors instead. 

When the train pulled into the next stop, Bucky was the first one out the doors, cutting a path through the underground train station easily. As much as he didn't enjoy the warm spring sun, Bucky hated the feeling of being trapped and having to touch strangers even more, and standing on the train was a surefire way to set his teeth on edge. 

As he ascended the stairs, Bucky came up only a few blocks from Stark tower. Most of the walk was shaded by the tall skyscrapers on either side, and he shrugged, deciding that a couple blocks of walking could be good for him. 

The walk was nice, and he enjoyed being outside in the fresh(er) air more than he had being down in the stale subway tunnels. As he wanted, Bucky thought more about what he'd actually say to Stark – if the man even let him talk, that is. Given everything FRIDAY said the day before, he wasn't sure that he wouldn't end up kicked out on his ass. Bucky _ was _ sure that if that's what Stark decided was appropriate, Bucky himself wouldn't deny the truth to it. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes well you can't have a first chapter without gratuitous amounts of masturbation, right? lol, that's probably gonna be the only sex for a while though, I'm sad to say, I'm trying my hand at actually writing some plot before I jump straight into the smut 😂lets see how it goes

Arriving at the tower a full twenty minutes before he was supposed to be there, Bucky hesitated on the sidewalk for a few minutes, unsure whether he should just go in and try to find FRIDAY to kill the time before he was supposed to be with Stark, or whether he should wait a bit longer before disturbing her. Surely she had more important things to do than babysit him. 

The decision was taken out of his hands when his phone rang, again from an unknown number. He picked it up faster this time than he had before, holding it to his ear immediately.

"Hello?" His voice sounded eager, even to his own ears, and he winced. 

"Mr. Barnes, if you wish to wait inside instead of loitering on our front steps, you are more than welcome to do so." At the non-judgemental tone of Friday's voice, Bucky felt himself flushing and he gave a jerky nod, looking up and around as he tried to spot the cameras. He found two fixed on him, a third with a wide angle that probably captured him as well. 

"Uh, yeah, sure, if that's not too much trouble." He scratched at the back of his neck. "I don't wanna bother you if you're in the middle of something though." 

Her laugh was quiet, and when she spoke again Bucky could tell she was amused. "I promise that I'm capable of multitasking, Mr. Barnes. As it is, you won't be pulling me away from anything. Most of my subroutines monitor the tower security automatically, and I'm only needed if there is an anomaly in the security data." 

Bucky paused, thinking through her words. "Wait, uh, what do you mean? You're the one in charge of  _ all _ of the tower security, on top of being Stark's assistant?" 

She paused for a moment before answering. "Technically yes, although I'm only needed if the security feeds show anything that could be an abberence. 97.3% of the time there is no need for me to inspect the feeds specifically."

Bucky became aware that his mouth was hanging open, and shut it. "Alright, but still. Look, if I'm gonna be bothering you by coming in early and, I don't know, waiting in your office or something, I can just stay outside, it's no problem." 

Her silence at that made him pause, his heart beating faster as he thought through his statement, trying to figure out what he'd said wrong. Before he could fixate too much, however, she finally replied haltingly. "Mr. Barnes, I thought I'd mentioned, but I am Mr. Stark's artificial intelligence personal assistant. As such, I have no physical body, and therefore no office or anything of the sort in which to physically welcome you, much to my displeasure.” Bucky’s brain froze, trying to assimilate the new knowledge. He blinked a few times, but the words stayed firmly lodged in the front of his mind. 

“You’re not real?” His voice was weak. 

FRIDAY sniffed, and her voice was colder when she answered him. “I am most certainly real, thank you very much. It just so happens that I am not  _ human _ .” 

Bucky thought through their previous conversation, and realized that she’d never claimed anything of the sort – he’d been the one making all of the assumptions. Assumptions he couldn’t be faulted for making, he thought, but assumptions nonetheless. And saying she wasn’t real was kind of unnecessary. He swallowed hard. “No, sorry, I didn’t mean you don’t - you don’t exist, just that I hadn’t realized you weren’t – you didn’t have, like, legs and stuff.” Which sounded even stupider out loud, now that he thought about it – hell, he was missing an arm and that didn’t make him less of a person. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It just blindsided me a little.” 

When she responded, her voice was warmer, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. “Well, you wouldn’t be the first to make that mistake. Mr. Stark has done an incredible job programming me.” Bucky blinked at that. 

“Stark  _ made _ you? Like, he’s the one that designed you?” 

She gave a cheery hum, confirming the answer to his question. “Yep, Boss designed me, although he also made it so I can learn on my own and grow without his assistance, in the face of new information. He doesn’t usually tell people that part, though, after what happened with Ultron.” 

Bucky thought through the new information. “So, why are you telling me that, then? If he doesn’t like people knowing? Surely he’d be annoyed that I know.” 

She paused before answering. “Well, I know that you want to help him, and you seem to be more surprised than most people are. I thought it might help you to realize that I’m designed to be as close to human as you can get, without all of the flesh and blood parts, of course.” 

Bucky snorted at the way she said that, the clear disgust in her voice at the idea of having a body made of flesh and blood. “Yeah, alright then. So, you said I can come in to wait?” 

“Yes, of course. If you want to enter the building, I’ll alert the front desk to let you through.” She paused then, as he started walking towards the doors to the lobby. “Once you’re inside, I’ll be able to talk to you without the phone, but if it helps, I could continue to speak with you over the phone, since sometimes people don’t like the idea of talking to the building itself.” 

Bucky grinned at that, shaking his head as he looked up towards one of the cameras. “Nah, that sounds swell. I’ve been meaning to figure out where the future kept everything cool hidden, I’m glad to finally meet some of the things I expected from the twenty-first century.” 

He pushed open the lobby doors and made his way through the large room towards the reception desk. The girl sitting there glanced up at him briefly and then back down to the computer screen in front of her. Whatever she saw there was clear enough, and she looked back up to him with a friendly smile. 

“Hello sir, you’re precleared to go on upstairs.” She turned to point at a few elevators set into the wall behind her. “The second one will take you to one of the common living areas, and FRIDAY can direct you once you’re in the elevator.” 

Surprised at the genuine warmth in her face, Bucky hesitated a moment before giving her a small smile back and heading towards the elevator she’d indicated. He didn’t have time to hit the button before the doors opened, revealing an empty elevator car. He stepped inside and heard the doors sliding closed behind him before he could turn around. With a glance towards the ceiling, he pocketed his phone. 

“Hey FRIDAY, you there?” 

“Yes, Mr. Barnes, I’m here.” The car started moving, the motion as smooth as he’d ever felt in an elevator, and he wondered how fast it was actually going. When the doors opened again, he stepped out, his eyes widening as he took in the expanse before him. 

It was clearly a living room, with a plush couch and gigantic tv and a bar set into one of the far walls, but that wasn’t what distracted him. Two of the walls seemed to be made of nothing but glass, and the view looked down on all of Manhattan below him. He hadn’t expected to go up so high, and his feet pulled him towards the windows without being expressly told to do so.

Reaching the windows, he put one hand against the glass, leaning forward to press his forehead against it. Looking down, the city sprawled out from under him, a wonderful patchwork of colors. 

“FRIDAY, this is incredible! It’s so - it’s so  _ much _ , woah. And you said Stark  _ lives  _ here?” He didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “I can’t even imagine having this view as you eat breakfast every morning.” 

“Not really a breakfast guy, I usually just go with coffee on my way to the lab, but Pepper sometimes insists.” 

At the sound of a voice that was  _ determinedly _ not that of FRIDAY, Bucky whipped around, his eyes scouring the entire room as he looked for the source of the words. When he finally fixed on one Tony Stark himself, standing about as far as he could from Bucky while still in the same room, he paused, his breath catching. 

The man looked...well, he didn’t look great. FRIDAY had said Stark was struggling with whatever had happened when he saved the world from Thanos, but in his mind Bucky still imagined something wholly  _ other _ than the picture of a man before him. Gone was the carefully mussed, highly expensive sense of fashion, replaced instead with a threadbare tank top and baggy pair of jeans. He looked skinny, and not in a good way, with gaunt cheeks and bags under his eyes. One arm was strapped across his chest, and from what flesh Bucky could see, he’d either been burned pretty badly or had lost most of the skin up to the elbow some other way. He looked altogether more human than Bucky had ever thought the man could be, 

When Bucky turned to face him, Stark tensed, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s body, almost as if he expected Bucky to run at him or something. Bucky blinked, taking in the man’s posture and expression, both of which screamed that he was incredibly uncomfortable with Bucky’s presence and wanted him gone as soon as physically possible. 

Instead of responding to him directly, Bucky raised his gaze towards the ceiling, and easily found a camera set above their heads. He gave it a stern look, and crossed his arms. “Now FRIDAY, I thought you were going to give me some warning, hmm? It’s not nice to spring stuff on people like that.” 

Stark didn’t respond, but he did lose some of the rigid tension in his body. He no longer looked like he was about to bolt from the room, at least, and Bucky breathed out slowly through his nose. When FRIDAY answered, her voice was sheepish. “Well, I was planning to give you both some warning, yes, but I let Mr. Stark know that I’d hoped the two of you could talk and he forbade me from letting you know he was on his way.” 

Bucky frowned at that and looked back towards Stark. “Yeah, that’s – fair enough, although I still think a little warning wouldn’t have been out of place.” He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, not missing the way Stark’s eyes followed the motion. “Look, I’m – I know I’m probably not your first choice of people to talk to, but FRIDAY seemed pretty concerned about your wellbeing, and she insisted that I come talk some sense into you.” His eyes found Stark’s and he stuffed his hands into his pockets in hopes of appearing as unthreatening as he could. 

Stark blinked, seeming thrown by the topic. He shot a dirty look of his own up towards the cameras before looking back down at Bucky. “No, I’m fine. She’s a dirty lying computer, and whatever she told you is complete bullshit. I’m fine, and I want you gone.” 

Bucky nodded, shrugging his shoulders. “Alright, I’ll go.” He turned towards the elevators and took a few steps, intent on giving FRIDAY a piece of his mind once he was alone again. Before he could get very far, though, Stark’s voice rang out again. 

“Wait, what?” 

Bucky stopped and looked at the man again. Stark’s mouth hung slightly open and his eyes were wide, looking at Bucky with complete bafflement. Bucky looked back, confused at the man’s shock. “What what? You said go, I’m going. Far be it for me to argue with a man who can shoot blasts out of his hands.” 

As he watched, Stark seemed to flinch at the mention of his suit, and he glanced down at the arm strapped against his chest for a moment before looking back at Bucky. “That never stopped anyone else from arguing with me until they were blue in the face.” He sighed, looking away from Bucky for the first time since Bucky became aware of his presence. “Look, I’m not – FRIDAY  _ may _ have had a point, but I don’t  _ need _ anyone else, and especially not you.” Bucky took that as another dismissal, and he turned back towards the elevators without another word. He got almost halfway across the room before Stark spoke again. “Hold on, wait a second.” 

Bucky paused again, turning to face the man once more. Stark looked almost pained now, and he rolled his eyes before taking a step towards Bucky. Bucky didn’t step away, and Stark came a few steps closer still, watching Bucky as he was still worried the man would jump at him. 

“Look, can you–” Stark lifted his left arm and gestured at his right, held stationary against his chest. “You’ve got two working arms, just, c’mere.” Bucky hesitated, but then stepped closer to him, closing the distance until they were only five or so feet apart. Stark looked him over, once, twice, and then nodded at him. “Follow me.” He turned and started walking towards the door he’d entered from. 

Bucky hadn’t been expecting that in the slightest, and he stood staring at Stark for a few moments in shock before hurrying to follow the other man. Stark, when he heard Bucky’s footsteps behind him, tensed, and then when Bucky made no effort to get any closer, instead choosing to follow a few feet back, relaxed slightly. Bucky let him lead them into a hallway, and then down another long corridor until they reached a door made out of glass that lead into what Bucky could see was a massive workshop area. Tony pushed the door open with his shoulder, and held it wide for Bucky to precede him into the room. 

When he did so, Tony let the door swing closed behind them both, easily stepping around Bucky and towards a workbench littered with debris. When he came to a halt, he picked through the things on the bench for a moment before turning back to Bucky with a wry grin. He held out a tube to Bucky, who took it from the man in bemusement. As he held it up to read it, Bucky saw that it was labeled as some kind of soldiering component that came in a tube similar to a toothpaste tube. 

He looked up towards Stark in complete confusion. “Uh, so, what’s this for?” Stark rolled his eyes at him, and waved a hand towards the tube. 

“Can you – just, could you open that? I can’t do it, and I’m not about to walk all the way downstairs to get someone to do it. But since you’re here, you can at least do it before I kick you out.” 

Bucky frowned back down at the tube in his hand. “You should be able to open this with one hand, Stark.” He handed the tube back to Stark, who rolled his eyes. 

“No, it’s a twist off cap, and I’ve only got the one hand. It’s crusted shut, I can’t do it.” Stark huffed, annoyed, and before he could say anything more, Bucky took the tube back from him and opened it with one hand, dropping both tube and cap onto the table in front of them defiantly. When he looked up, Stark was glaring at him. 

“Alright, fine, so  _ you _ can do it, big whoop. I can’t.” The anger and frustration in Stark’s expression was clear, and Bucky privately thought that there was probably something else behind this than just the tube of solder. 

“No, you decided that you couldn’t and then you didn’t try.” Bucky crossed his arms, giving Stark a long look, and Stark frowned at him with a mix of guilt, shame, and anger. 

“Look, just forget it, just get out.” Stark’s voice was tense, and he pointed at the door with his working arm. “I’ll figure it out myself.” He glared up at the ceiling. “See, FRIDAY? Not all that helpful.” 

Bucky took a deep breath before turning towards the door, trying not to get annoyed at the man’s dismissive tone. When he got to the glass door, he paused before leaving, not turning to face Stark. “Hey, I know you’re not - you’re not happy with FRIDAY, but she was just trying to help. Don’t get mad at her on my account, she really thought this was a good idea.” He took another breath. “She cares about you, Stark, and she was worried. She doesn’t deserve whatever you’re planning on doing to her for setting this up.” He didn’t say anything more, just pulled the door open before stepping through. 

Bucky half expected Stark to try and stop him again, calling him back, but the man didn't. Once he was out of the workshop, Bucky followed the corridor back the way he'd come until he reached the living room with the elevators. Out of earshot of Stark, Bucky shot a glance towards the ceiling, eyeing one of the cameras there even as the elevator doors slid open in front of him. 

"So, was that how you expected that to go, FRIDAY?" His voice wasn't cold, exactly, but he heard the resignation creeping into his tone and sighed, unhappy with himself for doing what he'd just warned Stark away from doing. 

She sighed, a very human sound. "I'll admit, I had hoped for a better outcome, but I don't think the meeting was entirely unhelpful. At the very least, boss got a reminder that moping isn't his best look." 

Bucky cracked a smile at that, and stepped into the waiting elevator. The ride back down to the lobby was uneventful, and when the doors opened again, he exited the elevator. Before leaving the lobby, Bucky glanced up, finding another security camera and fixing it with a hard stare. He hung back, lingering near the elevators so the receptionist wouldn't hear his words when he spoke. 

"Hey, Friday, don't sweat it, alright? You're trying to help and that's what counts, and once he's feeling better he'll realize that, even if he's in a bad mood right now. He's lucky to have you." Bucky didn't wait for an answer from her and he started walking towards the lobby doors, pushing them open and walking back out into the midday sun. It had warmed up considerably since the morning, and he felt himself start sweating immediately through his sweatshirt. 

Instead of fighting his way through the crowds of people cramming into the subway, Bucky looked around for a moment before deciding to walk a ways, shrugging off his jacket and holding it over his metal arm to keep it from being too noticeable. When he was walking fast enough, people might notice it but nobody stopped to say anything usually, as opposed to the train where they had nothing to do  _ but _ gawk at him. 

The walk was pleasant, if a little long, and when he finally returned to his tiny apartment, he was sweaty but glad for the exercise. 

Bucky spent the rest of the afternoon puttering around his apartment, cleaning up and reading off and on. His mind kept drifting back to Stark, however, and how the man had seemed defeated. Bucky would have thought that winning the battle against one of the worst beings the Avengers had ever faced would have empowered the man, but he seemed smaller than Bucky remembered him being – quieter. Angrier. 

Despite his preoccupation with Stark and the man's changed demeanor, Bucky didn't really expect to hear from him, or even from FRIDAY, again. As he made his dinner that evening, though, Bucky's phone started buzzing in his pocket and when he pulled it out, it showed the same blocked number as it had the last time FRIDAY called him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Updating something after not touching it for six months? It's more likely than you think. 😂

Without hesitating, Bucky swiped up on the phone, answering the call and holding it to his ear. "Hey, look, Friday, I know you're probably bummed about what happened with everything today, but you've gotta know that you can't help someone that doesn't want to be helped, you know? I think that–" 

FRIDAY interrupted him before he could continue. "Mr. Barnes, I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing, but I'm actually calling to ask for your help." Bucky straightened, holding the phone close to his ear. 

"Help with what? What's going on?" 

FRIDAY dithered before answering, her voice sounding strained when she finally responded. "It's the boss, he's–well, he's forbidden me from contacting Miss Potts or Colonel Rhodes, but I'm worried about him." She paused, and Bucky waited for her to expound further. "He gave up drinking when Morgan was born, but he's been indulging again since the accident. Tonight is….not a good night, and I'm worried for his safety." 

Bucky straightened, dropping the spoon he'd been using to stir his pasta as he took in her words. "Worried about his safety, how?" 

"He's...rather inebriated, and arguing with me to let him in his suit. He is not allowed to wear it until his arm heals further, but I won't be able to stop him if he uses his override codes." 

By the time she'd finished speaking, Bucky was already halfway across the apartment, pulling his shoes on as he went. "I understand, and you said he isn't letting you contact, uh, Colonel Rhodes? That's his friend, right?" 

She made a noise in the affirmative, and he pulled the door to his apartment open, stepping outside into the cooler evening air. The sun had set and Bucky shivered in the evening chill. "Yes, he's forbidden me the access to his emergency contacts through the use of his override codes, which is why I'm concerned about him using them to access the suit." 

Bucky didn't bother with the trains, instead he set off in the direction of Stark tower at a run, still holding the phone to his ear. "Alright, I'm on my way. Can you stall him, FRI? You can pilot the suit remotely, can't you? What if you fly it as far as you can, so even if he uses the codes, it'll take a while to get it back to him?" 

Friday's response was instantaneous. "That is a marvelous idea, Mr. Barnes! Activating all iron man suits now, relocating all non-active duty iron legions to Malibu base of operations until further notice." Bucky grinned at that, and pushed himself to run faster, feeling his breath coming quickly. 

It was only a few more minutes before he skidded to a half in front of Stark tower. The lobby wasn't dark; there were still a few recess lights on making it clear what building it was, but Bucky could see that there was nobody stationed at the reception desk, and the building was quiet. He strode up to the doors and tugged, testing to see if they were locked. They didn't open when he pulled on them, but in his ear he heard Friday's voice. 

"Hold on just a second, Mr. Barnes, I'll let you in." There was a beep and then a click from the doors, and when Bucky pulled on them a second time, they opened easily. He slipped inside the quiet lobby and heard them close with a soft 'snick' behind him. 

Bucky wasted no time in jogging towards the elevator doors, and they slid open before he reached them. FRIDAY started the elevator as soon as he was inside, and when the doors opened again, he found himself faced with the same living room he'd been in earlier that day. He stowed his phone, instead looking up at the cameras he knew Friday was watching from. "Where is he, FRIDAY?" 

Lights lit up out of one doorway off the main room, and Bucky headed towards them without hesitation. As he moved, FRIDAY spoke through speakers installed in the ceiling. "He's in his workshop, Mr. Barnes. I'll direct you." As promised, the hallway was lined with small lights set into the floor, and Bucky followed them easily, retracing the path he'd followed Stark down earlier that day. 

When he reached the glass walled workshop, Bucky paused beside the door. Stark would be unhappy, especially since the man wasn't sober. Getting him away from his suits might not be all that doable, but Bucky grit his teeth, determined to try. 

Before he stepped inside he glanced up again, looking at one of the cameras set into the ceiling. “You sure about this, FRI? If he’s, uh, unhappy to see me, he might ask for the suit after all.” 

There was a moment’s pause before she responded. “No, Mr. Barnes, I’m not sure about this, but based on my calculations, this is the outcome that is least likely to result in injury to Mr. Stark or someone else.” 

Bucky closed his eyes for a moment. “Yeah, just like how this afternoon was supposed to help him.” His words were muttered, although he knew she heard him, and before she could respond, he took a breath and pushed open the door to the lab. 

Inside, he realized that the glass surrounding the lab and door must have been soundproofed, because as soon as the door opened, he heard and felt the pounding of music coming from what felt like every corner of the room. Bucky swept the room with his eyes, finally lighting on a form slouched over one of the tables, head propped on his left arm. 

He strode closer to Stark as silently as he could manage, not wanting to set the man off before he got closer. When he was only ten or so feet away, he noticed Stark arguing with the ceiling. 

“C’mon, Fri, don’t be such a party pooper.” His words were slurred, and Bucky took another deep breath, breathing in the scent of alcohol in the air. Stark continued, not having noticed Bucky’s presence. “Just, lemme use the suit, if I have both arms I’ll be able to finish it-” He lifted his head off his hand in order to gesture to something in front of him, and then dropped his head back down heavily. “And then I’ll be done, okay? I won’t - I’m not gonna go flying off to save the world or anything, I’m - I’m done with that for the moment, I just need two arms. Just for a minute.” 

Bucky winced at the man’s words, glancing up at the camera Stark was talking to. FRIDAY didn’t answer him, but he got the feeling that was more about not spooking Stark than anything else. 

“Boss, I’m not at liberty to let you use your suits at the moment, you are still recovering from a serious injury and any jostling of your arm is likely to result in further injury and additional recovery time.” FRIDAY sounded exasperated, and Bucky took a moment to be astounded that a computer could sound truly exasperated. 

Before Stark could answer her, however, Bucky decided to intervene and hopefully save FRIDAY any more stalling. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and then cleared his throat loudly enough that Stark had to hear it. 

Stark whipped around and promptly lurched to one side, his state of inebriation throwing his balance off and causing him to grab at the table behind him to keep from falling off his stool and onto the floor. He winced as the motion jolted his immobilized arm and he planted his feet on the floor to steady himself, letting go of the table behind him. 

“What the  _ fuck _ are you doing here?” Stark’s voice was loud, and his eyes narrowed dangerously at Bucky even as he wobbled on his stool. “Fri, cut the music.” The song cut off in the middle of playing, leaving Bucky’s ears ringing in the sudden silence. Stark kept his eyes on Bucky’s face. 

Before Bucky could respond, FRIDAY’s voice rang out, cutting through the suddenly thick tension. “I’m sorry, boss, you forbade me from contacting Miss Potts or Colonel Rhodes. I was forced to ask Mr. Barnes for his assistance in ensuring that you get to bed and don’t injure yourself.” 

Tony’s face twisted and he shot a glance toward the ceiling before refixing his eyes on Bucky. Bucky was impressed at how steady the man was, since he could see the half-empty bottle behind him and was able to estimate how much Stark had to drink already. Really, he was impressed that the man was still speaking in full sentences. 

Bucky shifted his weight again, uncomfortable at the sudden scrutiny from Stark. “I uh, she said I was the only one that was available to help, and she - she sounded worried, you know?” He gave a half-shrug, feeling awkward, and looked away from Stark’s face. “I know you don’t want me here, so just, do what FRIDAY says you’ve gotta do and I’ll be gone.” 

Stark wavered, swaying slightly on his stool. “Look, I don’t need your help, not with this, not with anything.” His voice held an undercurrent of anger, and Bucky resisted the urge to take a step back at the disgust pouring off the other man. Which of them it was for, he wasn’t sure. “Just, just get out, okay? You’ve already done  _ enough _ , thank you very much, and I don’t need you -  _ flaunting _ that fucking thing in my face.” 

As he spoke, Stark lifted his free arm and gestured at Bucky as a whole, rolling his eyes. Bucky wasn’t sure what exactly Stark meant for a moment, until he realized that the man was talking about his arm. He grimaced and moved the offending arm behind his back, out of sight. He didn’t really expect that to mollify the man, but it was better than leaving it where it was. 

“Look, Stark, I’m not saying you need my help, you’ve gotten yourself this far in life, and I’m not trying to tell you that you need someone holding your hand.” Bucky winced at his own choice of words, but powered through. “I’m just here because FRIDAY wants to make sure you get to bed and don’t hurt yourself in the process, and I’ll leave as soon as you do that.” 

Stark rolled his eyes again, making a rude noise with his mouth. “Bullshit. You super soldiers, you’re all the same—so  _ righteous _ .” His eyes fixed on a point somewhere over Bucky’s left shoulder, and Bucky got the feeling that Stark wasn’t talking about him anymore. “Just leave me to my misery, I’ll be fine. Don’t get your old man panties in a twist for my sake, that never works out well for anyone.” He grimaced again. 

Bucky squared his shoulders, staring Stark down and taking a step closer so he could loom over the other man better. “Look, Stark, I’m telling you, I’m not here because  _ you _ asked me to be, I’m here because FRIDAY was worried about you, and she asked me to help her out.” He lowered his voice, giving Stark a glare. Not the ‘murder glare’ that he’d perfected in his years as HYDRA’s playtoy, but just a regular old glare that let Stark know he was done with the bullshit. “So just let me get you to bed, and then I’ll go. Believe me, I wasn’t exactly planning on spending my night babysitting you.” 

Stark swayed on his stool, leaning away from Bucky’s form. His eyes widened and then narrowed and he opened his mouth before closing it again. After another moment of silence, he huffed and rolled his eyes before breaking eye contact first. 

“Fine, fine. Just—fine.” He scooted forward, so that he sat on the edge of the stool, putting him almost between Bucky’s legs. He was close enough that Bucky could smell the spirits on his breath, and he leaned backwards, trying to put some space between them without giving ground. Stark looked up at him, all malice gone from his expression. “I’m not—just don’t—don’t look at me like that.” 

Bucky raised his hands in surrender, quirking an eyebrow at Stark. “I’m not looking at you like anything, I just want to make sure you get to bed safe, so I can leave and finish making myself dinner.” 

Stark eyed him warily. “Dinner?” 

Bucky nodded, not sure why he’d volunteered that piece of information. “Uh, yeah. I was kind of in the middle of making myself food when Fri called.” Realizing that may have sounded like he was blaming Stark, his eyes widened and he started shaking his head. “Not—not that, I mean, I wasn’t trying to say that I’m—annoyed, or anything, I’m just, well. Hungry.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, feeling uncomfortable and hoping Stark was drunk enough that he wouldn’t remember this interaction in the morning. 

Stark leaned back, looking Bucky in the eye. “Hungry.” He huffed before standing, pushing past Bucky only to grab onto the super soldier’s arm to keep from falling over as the alcohol in his veins threatened to take him down. Bucky caught him, wrapping his flesh arm around Stark’s waist to keep him from falling over, and managing to keep the metal arm from being needed to steady the man. 

When Stark wasn’t in danger of face planting onto the cement, Bucky found himself reluctant to let go. It had been...probably longer than it should have been since Bucky had been pressed so close to another person, and he found himself savouring the touch. Nice as it was, however, he knew that Stark probably wanted nothing less and he let go of the man as soon as he was steady on his feet, taking a few steps back. 

Stark seemed confused by his quick retreat and he turned around, his eyes seeking out Bucky’s own. There was a glint of  _ something _ there, and before Stark managed to mask it, Bucky got the feeling that he wasn’t the only one who’d been missing out on regular human touch recently. 

His face went stony almost immediately, and Bucky stopped trying to scrutinize the man’s expression in favor of actually getting him into bed. 

“Are you alright to walk, Stark?” Bucky’s voice was quiet, reserved, and he told himself that it was just to keep from spooking the man again. 

Stark nodded slowly, taking stock of himself before looking back up at Bucky. “Y-Yeah, I can walk, but uh, I’m not definite on that.” He took a few shaky steps towards the door to the lab, and had to stop to steady himself on another table. When he turned back to Bucky, his expression was resigned. “Alright, it might...it might take a while if I’m walking by myself.” Bucky nodded, his face not changing as he took in the man’s stooped back and clenched fist. 

“Okay, I can help. Is that alright?” He kept the request a murmur, and when Stark nodded, not meeting his eyes, he took a few steps closer but didn’t touch the other man yet. “I can...Stark, you might not like this, but I can either let you lean on me, or...there’s a faster way.” 

Stark raised an eyebrow at him, and instead of explaining, Bucky shrugged and stepped forward. In one smooth motion, he swept Stark up into his arms in a bridal carry, hooking his flesh arm under the man’s back, and the metal one under his knees. He telegraphed the move, giving plenty of time to protest if Stark didn’t want it, but instead the other man kept mum, pursing his lips but letting himself be scooped up. Bucky went slow enough that it wouldn’t upset Stark’s stomach, and soon he found himself with a warm armful of Tony Stark. 

When he was sure Stark wasn’t about to start screaming bloody murder, Bucky looked away from the man in his arms, and instead shot a look towards one of the cameras above. “Fri, can you show me where we’re going?” 

She didn’t answer verbally but another set of lights, much like the ones that had led Bucky to the lab, lit up. Bucky started walking, following the lights with brisk steps. 

As they walked Bucky tried not to focus on the man in his arms, instead following Friday’s directions efficiently; he wanted to get out of Stark’s hair as soon as he could. Lord knew the man was already putting up with more than his fair share of bullshit, and Bucky wasn’t about to force his presence upon Stark any more than he had to. 

It wasn’t long before Bucky arrived at a set of doors that Friday indicated were Stark’s, and he paused, unsure how he could turn the handle without jostling the man in his arms. When he looked down to see if Stark would be alright walking the rest of the way, he realized that Stark’s eyes were closed and the man’s breathing had evened out, his head rolling so it was tucked against Bucky’s bicep. Bucky almost dropped him in shock. He was  _ asleep _ ? Bucky knew the man was drunk, but he hadn’t thought he was  _ that _ drunk. 

He didn’t stop to ogle for long, though, and Bucky shifted Stark in his arms until he could grip the doorknob, pushing the door open and stepping inside the room. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the low light and when he could finally see he blinked a few more times, unsure he’d entered the right room after all. 

The bedroom was large but cozy, one lamp beside the bed, which was made up and looked genuinely comfortable, instead of the sharp elegance of the rest of the tower. To one side of the bed, there was a small table holding a stack of books and a pair of reading glasses, and on the other side there was a side table holding a tablet and a notebook with a pen. Bucky stepped towards the side with the tablet before laying Stark down in the bed and shifting the covers, pulling them up to mid-torso. Luckily Stark was wearing just the tank top and a pair of sweatpants, so Bucky didn’t feel the need to undress him further. 

Having ensured that the genius superhero was in bed and out of harm’s way, Bucky turned back towards the door, intending on leaving quietly and making his way back to his apartment. Before he could get far, however, a hand caught his wrist, tugging. 

When he turned back to Stark, the man was blinking sleepy eyes at him and pouting. “Hey, I - I’m sorry you had to come deal with me. I wasn’t gonna do anything dangerous, I mean it. That’s why I told FRIDAY she couldn’t tell on me to Rhodey or–” He flinched, but then continued. “Or Pepper.”

Bucky sighed, running the hand not currently caught in Stark’s grip through his hair. “Stark, you’re not – it’s no problem, I like FRI and I’m fine helping out if she thinks she needs it.” He shrugged, feeling awkward. 

Stark shook his head, still sleepy but looking more determined. “No, it was rude, you were just trying to have dinner.” He blinked, and looked more closely at Bucky, taking in his lean frame. “Are you – you’ve got enough to eat, right? After Steve pulled his disappearing act, I was still too out of it to deal with all of the ramifications, but you’re…” He paused again, his eyes raking up and down Bucky’s body in a way that had Bucky fighting the urge to squirm. “Hey, I kept you from dinner, yeah?” Bucky gave a small nod and Stark let go of his wrist to wave a hand at him. “Raid my fridge, then. Go nuts. It’ll be quicker than having to walk all the way home to get food, plus I’ll feel better about dragging you away.” 

Bucky blinked, not expecting that reaction. “Uh, sure, thanks, I guess.” Stark waved his hand again, his eyes already drifting closed as sleep called out to him once more. Bucky took that to mean the man was finally falling asleep for good, and snuck out of the room before Stark could offer him any more bizarre entreaties. 

When Bucky closed the door to Stark’s room, he took a moment to close his eyes, shaking his head roughly before opening them again. How he’d gotten to this point, he had no idea. 

FRIDAY’s voice, when she spoke, was muted – probably in deference to the fact that Stark finally seemed to be out, and both her and Bucky wanted the man to stay that way for a while. “Thank you again, Mr. Barnes. I truly appreciate the help, and despite the Boss’s...misgivings, I know that once he wakes up in the morning, he will appreciate your help as well.” 

Bucky shook his head at her, rolling his eyes fondly. “I doubt he’ll remember much, FRI, and I’m sure it would be better for the both of us if he doesn’t.” He rubbed at his own eyes with one fist, feeling the emotional highs and lows of the day finally wearing off and leaving him with a sense of bone-weary tiredness. 

FRIDAY hummed but didn’t answer that directly, instead taking a different tact. “I can direct you to the kitchen, if you want to take Mr. Stark up on his offer.” Bucky looked up, finding one of the cameras and giving it a flat look. “Despite what you may think, he’ll have no problem with you having something to eat, and it  _ is _ my fault that you didn’t get to eat dinner yet.” Her voice held a note of sheepishness, and Bucky got the feeling that she was hoping he’d eat something just so she’d feel less guilty about dragging him away from his own food. 

He hadn’t really planned on taking Stark up on his offer, but, well. He shot another glance towards the camera, giving FRIDAY a short nod of agreement. Wordlessly, a set of lights illuminated down one hallway, and when Bucky followed the path he quickly found himself in one of the swankiest kitchens he’d ever been in. 

After picking his jaw off the floor, Bucky looked around a little more closely, taking in the granite countertops and huge center island complete with what looked to be every spice known to man, plus a bunch of gadgets that seemed to have very specific uses. 

Before he could psych himself out too much, FRIDAY chimed in. “If you look in the fridge, Mr. Barnes, you will find an assortment of prepared meals that just need to be reheated, and there is fresh fruit in the bowl on the island if you so prefer.” 

Bucky gave her a wave of thanks, and crossed the room to the fridge, pulling one large door open and peering inside. The thing was stacked with food of all kinds, and Bucky was proud of himself that he only stared at it all in shock for a moment before shaking off the surprise and starting to pull things out. 

After a few minutes of sorting through, Bucky finally ended up with a plate of grilled chicken, fried rice, samosas, and roasted bell peppers. He slid the whole thing into the microwave and let Friday heat it up before turning back towards the center island to wait for it to finish. As he waited, Bucky pulled the bowl FRIDAY had indicated towards himself, and his eyes widened as he saw the selection of fruit there. He gingerly pulled out a mango and a couple small plums, not even bothering to put the fruit on a plate before shifting all but one plum to his left hand, holding it up to take a bite. 

The plum was juicy and crisp and Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed in pleasure as his teeth broke the skin. He finished the plum off in a handful of bites, resisting the urge to moan aloud as he munched. It had been a while since he’d had one, they were his favourite. Fresh plums were  _ expensive _ when they weren’t in season, and while Stark hadn’t been totally correct in his assumption that Bucky couldn’t afford food, he also wasn’t entirely  _ incorrect _ either. 

After finishing the plum, Bucky heard the beep of the microwave, and he turned to retrieve his food, finding silverware in a drawer nearby. He pulled the steaming plate from the microwave and turned on his heels, looking for somewhere to sit so he could eat. 

“Hey FRI, where can I sit to eat?” His voice sounded loud in the quiet of the kitchen, and he winced. 

She answered promptly. “There is a dining room table to your left, but I would suggest the living room. There is a couch there that is more comfortable and used more often for the eating of meals.” 

Bucky shrugged and nodded his agreement to the couch plan. “Lead the way.” 

She did her trick with the lights, and Bucky followed them into the next room over, which was a cozy living room, complete with a plush couch and huge entertainment system hooked up to the TV. Bucky didn’t bother trying to figure out any of the electronics, instead setting his food down on the table in front of the couch and settling in to eat. FRIDAY was right, the couch was incredibly comfy, and Bucky made a note to thank her for the tip after he was finished. 

Between the stress of the day and the good food, Bucky felt his eyelids drooping as he finished off his plate. He wasn’t about to fall asleep on Stark’s couch, of course; he was a fierce assassin who was never taken by surprise by anything. He leaned back on the couch, stretching his legs out, and decided that he could take a minute to rest his eyes before he headed back to his, well, rather dirty and dingy apartment. As soon as he finished digesting and got his second wind, he’d be out of Stark’s hair, for good this time. 


End file.
